


Deleted Scenes: In That New World Which Is the Old

by Arrested



Series: The Day-Dream [10]
Category: Ivanhoe, Original Work
Genre: Anachronistic Social Attitudes, Angst, Deleted Scenes, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Middle Ages, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrested/pseuds/Arrested
Summary: A collection of extra scenes fromIn That New World Which Is the Old. Excluded because they are tangential to the narrative or too short to form standalone chapters. Variety of POVs. Each under 1000 words.





	Deleted Scenes: In That New World Which Is the Old

Chapter 19: Richard

“I do not think I heard you correctly.”

Across the table, Richard leveled Wamba a narrow look that had cowed no lesser men than his fellow kings. Upon Wamba it appeared to have little effect. His face was the one he wore at court, and Richard could glean nothing from it beyond the glimmer of mild amusement that Wamba chose to show him.

“Shall I repeat myself, sire?”

“Do.”

“Oscar has a child,” Wamba began again, and that was the word that had not quite managed to breach the defenses of Richard’s understanding.

“A child.”

“A son, to be precise,” Wamba continued, “who has recently lost his mother and is in need of a new home.”

Wamba might as well have been speaking of the weather for all the emotion that colored his words. Richard sat back in his chair and released a slow breath through his nose, lips pursed tight. The show of indifference was convincing, but Richard had no intention of allowing such an extraordinary revelation to pass unexamined.

“You mean for that home to be here?”

“He has no other family to speak of,” Wamba said, “and Oscar would not abandon him even if he did.”

“Yes, do let us speak of Oscar.” Richard did not bother to mask his scorn. “It is of no concern to you that he has evidently been warming beds other than your own?”

Wamba swallowed, a bare concession to the potency of the king’s blunt words, but his expression did not waver. “Eral was conceived, indeed born, long before Oscar had any obligation to me.”

That mollified Richard somewhat. He tapped a considering thumb against his chin as he looked at Wamba. “You intend, therefore, to raise this child as your own?”

“As Oscar’s,” Wamba corrected him, voice soft. “I make no claim to him.”

“Yet you come here before me and entreat me to grant him the privileges of nobility.”

It was an observation, not a rebuke, and Wamba knew well the difference. His smile was serene as he took up the challenge. “Has Oscar not proven himself adept at mastering the skills required to serve the royal house? Think how much more accomplished his son might become if you begin his training so young.”

“That is a bold supposition,” Richard chided him. “You know very well that my wards are chosen from the scions of England’s great houses, and that I take care in their selection. You would have me place a commoner among them, and one whose own merit you have had precious little opportunity to assess. This boy is a stranger to you, and yet you would barter even Rotherwood’s interests for him?”

“If Eral is not to your satisfaction, sire, you can always dismiss him later.” Wamba’s guileless smile might be enough to fool another king, but Richard had not succeeded in holding his throne for so long by the power of his armies alone. He knew where to strike that Wamba could not parry.

“Do you do this for fear that you will lose him otherwise?”

That, finally, was enough to crack Wamba’s composure. He blinked rapidly, his hand clenching tight on the arm of his chair, but when he spoke his voice was steady. “I do it because I have sworn to give him anything that it is my power to provide.”

“You have given him much already,” Richard noted.

“No more than he has done for me.” Wamba said firmly. “He wishes the best for his son, and therefore I will do all that I can to win it for him.”

Richard regarded him for a long moment, while he allowed the unexpected twinge in his heart to pass.

“If you ask this of me for his sake,” he said at last, “then my answer is no.”

“Sire,” Wamba began, dismayed, but Richard silenced him with a raised hand and a slow smile.

“Ask it for yourself, and it will be granted.”

Wamba’s face went slack in astonishment, but a smile quickly bloomed to match Richard’s own. He placed one hand over his heart and bowed his head.

“Sire, would you grant me this favor?”

“I will.”

“Thank you, sire.”

“But,” Richard said, catching and holding Wamba’s eyes as his head snapped up, “remember that it is yours. The moment it ceases to be in your interest it is no more.”

Wamba folded his hands in his lap and nodded. “I understand, sire.”

“Well that you do,” Richard said, letting a hint of menace color his words, “but see that he understands it as well, or I will have words with him myself.”


End file.
